Testing Judgement
by iguanablogger
Summary: Ezio, Altair, and Desmond are all summoned by a mysterious member of Those Who Came Before, who does not believe they are fit to save the world. It's up to the three Assassins to work together to prove their worth...Or die trying.
1. Prologue

Masyaf, 1257

The library was the quietest room Altair had ever been in, and he'd spent his life nestled away in desks and studies. But here, so cut off from reality, so far underground, so far behind walls more solid than steel…He learned his final lesson.

It was only here that the true meaning of the words 'Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted' really rang within his mind; in this tiny room that would become his grave.

Altair gazed upon the Apple one last time. His hands, always trembling with age, were oddly calm as he lifted his fingers to stroke the globe's smooth surface. He felt the pulse beneath the metal, calling out to him as it always had.

But this time, he wouldn't let it win.

And yet, a bright light began to engulf him when he ended the touch. The library melted away, and the old man found himself drifting through space.

_I __am __dead, _he thought.

It was the logical conclusion.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Altair had never expected to reopen his eyes. The feeling had been most surreal: one moment, he had been floating through that warm snow-blind. The next, his chest lay pressed against something hard and cold, and coughs wracked his body.

Slowly, the Grand-Assassin blinked. His fingers twitched and felt the ground beneath him; it was strangely smooth, almost like iron…

Breathing hoarsely, Altair climbed to his feet. To his amazement, his limbs felt light and strong. A quick glance revealed to the Assassin that he was very clearly no longer ninety-one years old. His legs upheld him proudly, and his arms were not so thin with age. Long gone were the wrinkles on his hands, and his fingers held their natural tone.

It was as though he had been teleported back to the body he had not possessed in sixty-six years. But the Mentor knew that somehow he had retained his sage mind…

Pleasantly surprised by his appearance, Altair decided to examine his surroundings further. Both the floor and walls of the small room were wrought from some form of metal, but appeared almost crystalline in their construction. Rough stalagmite-like ridges of metal protruded from the ground in some areas, and in others the walls dissolved and led into dark space…

It was a dream if ever the Assassin had known one.

With little else to do, Altair began to wander. He did not like how loudly his footsteps echoed in the haunting halls, or how the white reflection of his robes followed him.

But he became most alarmed when another pair of footsteps sounded beside his own.

The deformed rooms were too dimly lit to tell, but Altair was certain the stranger meant him harm. Altair dropped into a crouch and used his sixth-sense to determine the location of his stalker.

His hooded assailant was somewhere ahead him- a confusing detail. In fact, the man seemed almost not to notice Altair at all. He walked about distractedly, staring up at the ceiling, or lack thereof, of their dreamlike prison. But Altair was not one to argue with an easy target.

The Master Assassin waited until his objective came closer, a smirk spreading across his lips at the readiness with which he commanded his muscles. Just when the stranger halted, Altair pounced.

He grabbed the man around his midsection, leaping forth like an eagle in mid-dive and throwing them both to the ground. While his target cried out in shock, Altair secured his weight atop him and drew his hidden blade, preparing to set it on the male's jugular.

"Stop!" The prey protested, "You do not understand what you're doing!"

Altair understood perfectly well: this man meant to impair him. He would not be given the chance.

"Brother, stop."

A click echoed through the air- the click of a hidden blade. But Altair's were already drawn. The Master looked about in confusion, and then noticed his target held two of the blades, locked to both arms, and both were poised to enter Altair's ribcage.

"You…An Assassin?"

The man nodded firmly, then squinted his eyes, giving Altair an odd look, "And you seem very familiar, sir…"

Altair quickly untangled himself from his fellow Assassin and helped him climb to his feet. Once the air of danger had been scoured, Altair noticed the stranger was about the same age his appearance made him to be- mid twenties, oldest.

He wore a hood, similar to Altair's, and the symbol of the Creed was tightly exposed at his hips. But rather than robes and belts, as Altair wore, this man followed a different fashion: an open-collared tunic, which displayed the bands of leather that fell against his chest; long, bilious sleeves as opposed to the Grand Master's tight fitting ones.

The strange Assassin frowned as Altair scrutinized him, "I believe I have seen you before, sir. Are you Altair ibn La Ahad, by any chance?"

Altair's jaw set, and he stopped his examination immediately to give his visitor a harsh glare. He'd half a mind to brandish his hidden blades once more.

"Magnificent…" The newcomer breathed at his reaction.

"How do you know me?" Altair demanded.

"From my dreams, sir." Was the only answer he received.

It was not enough, "Who are you?"

The man inclined his head and shoulders, "My name is Ezio Auditore da Firenze, mentor. It is an honor to meet you."

"And are you the one who brought me here?" Altair continued, still uneasy despite the evident respect Ezio had for him.

Ezio shook his head, "Unfortunately no. I was in my study in Constantinople, reviewing the memories hidden in those ancient artifacts when…" The young man paused, lost for words.

"Was there a…bright light?" Altair offered.

"Yes," Ezio confirmed, "Unlike anything I'd ever seen. And then I woke up in this place- yet I do not feel like myself."

Altair considered before asking, "Perhaps you feel…younger?"

The Assassin's brow furrowed, "I suppose that is a way of putting it. Why would you say that?"

"I myself am ninety-one years old," Altair explained, "Yet clearly I have the strength and stamina of a young man."

"Ninety-one?" Ezio repeated in awe, brown eyes wide. "It must be so then. You appear no older than twenty-five. And I?"

"The same," Altair agreed.

"Very curious," Ezio murmured, walking past Altair and further into the puzzling backdrop, "This place is most unnatural."

"Then let us find our way out." Altair said gruffly before turning and striding away.

Ezio silently concurred, and the two elderly (yet not so) Assassins explored the disturbing landscape together. The strange, metallic hallways became narrower, until the two men were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Finally, they arrived at a large square room- but there were no lights or landmarks to identify it.

However, a voice shouted out to them.

"Is someone there?"

Both Assassins tensed, and four little blades pierced the air with a click far too loud.

"Hello? I-I'm not armed, just a little lost. Looking for some help, that's all."

Altair used his sixth sense once more to find their target wandering within the dark room's walls. Fear and confusion were evident both in his expression and his voice, but this time Altair searched for something further. The man carried a hidden blade- only one, but undeniably.

"Stop," Altair commanded his companion, "He is one of us."

"Hello?" Ezio nodded, sheathing his hidden blades.

"You," The elder Assassin shouted into the blackness, "declare yourself, Assassin!"

The voice seemed hesitant, but replied, "My name is Desmond Miles. I'm not an assassin- just a guy trying to find his way out of a mess."

Altair and Ezio approached the one named 'Miles', using their Sight to guide them. Once close enough, Altair spoke quietly:

"Desmond Miles," He said, though the name felt odd on his tongue, "Do you know the way out of this iron labyrinth?"

"No," Desmond sighed, "I'm sorry. I don't even know what this place is. One second I was in the Sanctuary, sitting by the statue- next I was floating…"

"Yes," Ezio answered, "We have all been brought here through similar circumstances."

Without warning, the room lit up. The men let out shouts of pain and alarm, covering their eyes with their arms. White light poured from the ceiling, and a child's voice announced to them:

"_Finally, __you__'__ve __come.__" _

With red eyes, the three Assassins turned to face the newcomer, who stepped down from the ceiling.

The male seemed to drift down like a leaf from a tree, full of grace. Each studied his features as he dropped to the floor and dusted himself: his skin was fair, bordering on olive. His hair was dark and hopelessly tangled in a beautiful way. He wore a long tunic that left one of his pale shoulders bare; the chiton's fabric was white, and he wore a belt and sandals below it.

With his guests speechless, the Greek boy continued:

"_I__'__ve __been __waiting __for __the __opportunity __to __summon __all __of __you __at __once. __But __now __that __you __are __here, __there __will __be __no __more __waiting.__" _

-0-0-0-0-

"What sorcery is this?" Altair demanded, "Who are you!"

_"__Calm, __my __friends,_" The boy said in a soft, almost ethereal voice, "_Your __people __once __called __me__ '__Erebus__'__. __Now, __I __have __no __name.__" _

"'Our people'?" Desmond mimicked, frowning.

"Erebus," Ezio's eyes lit up, "You are the god of the Greeks."

"_You __are __right,_" Erebus answered Ezio, "_And __you __are __also __wrong.__" _

"Explain." Altair commanded.

Erebus stepped back, fading into nothingness. But before the Assassins could react, the room went dark.

"_Sit,__" _The god's soothing voice encouraged them. They all did so. Suddenly, the room became a screen. First, a cityscape appeared upon it- tall buildings with people going about their business below.

"_Once, __We __lived __in __great __settlements. __Wonderful __places,__where __all __lived __happily __and __in __peace._"

The Assassins watched as the cityscape caught fire, and soon the entire room filled with smoke.

"_It __did __not __last.__"_

But even when only ashes remained, humans were seen pulling themselves from the rubble. People dusted themselves off, many wept and others collapsed.

"_We __were __shaking, __but __We __were __alive. __Only __just.__" _

The scene changed. A village appeared on grassy hills against a blue sky dotted with clouds. Children played in the dirt wearing large, baggy tunics and sandals. A mother watched from afar, a basket of eggs in her arms. Peeking from around the hilltop, a large columned building watched over the settlement.

"_We __watched __you __grow.__"_

Panning revealed a cave in the distance. Gasses and clouds swirled around its interior, but soon the form of a beautiful woman emerged.

"_Some __of __us __wanted __to __do __more __than __watch._"

Behind the woman, a child with dark hair and fair skin appeared. He pulled on her arm, speaking into her ear. She frowned at him and retreated back to the mist.

_"__They __called __Her __Hera, __goddess __of __mothering __and __care. __Yet __She __was __the __one __who __forbade __me __from __interacting __with __your __kind.__"_

It was night- Hera, the stunning lady, was seen with a group of village men, speaking earnestly with them.

"_When __I __became_ _zealous, __She __spread __rumors __about __me. __I __only __wanted __to __give, __to __share __with __man- __Our __fellow __survivors. __But __She __told __them __I __only __wanted __to __take, __that __I __was __a __selfish __god. __A __god __of __mischief __and __evil.__" _

The scene changed yet again. The boy wrapped himself in a large cloak and hood, then dashed from the cave. In his arms, a golden ball sat shimmering in the moonlight.

He ran inhumanly fast, crossing a distance of many miles. But just as quickly as his journey began, the boy was caught. The woman appeared before him, a look of disgust upon her face. She snatched the golden apple from his grip and slapped him across the face.

"_This __was __the __unspeakable. __That __I __would __steal __from __my __Own, __to __give __to __the __lesser. __I __fought H__er, __but S__he __defeated __me. __And __for __my __treason, __I __was __exiled.__" _

The rolling hills faded, and were replaced with stars and planets. The sun, bright and furious, spun in the distance.

"_I __was __no __longer __welcome __amongst __you, __and __amongst __my __Family. __They __banished __me __to __another __world, __far __off. __It __would __be __thousands __of __years __before __I __would __return.__"_

_ "But return I did." _

The lights dimmed, and soon the room returned to its normal level of brightness. The Assassins climbed to their feet and turned to find Erebus sitting behind them.

"_But __I __returned __to __find __all __that __I__'__d __known __lost, __and __man __had __long __since __forgotten __me.__"_

Erebus paused.

"_However, __I __did __find __a __message, __from __Athena. __She __told __me __that __this __world __was __not __yet __gone; __hope __lived __on __in __the __spirits __of __three __humans, __through __which __the __world __could __be __saved._

_ I tracked those humans down to find you three. But I do not believe that the entire planet can be changed by the will of a small group of men, especially those whose lives are scattered across centuries." _

"Then why have you brought us here?" Altair asked quietly.

Erebus answered, "_It __is __simple. __I __wish __to __conduct __a __test. __If __you __all __pass, __I __will __be __satisfied __with __Athena__'__s __judgment. __Fail, __and __you __shall __be __disposed __of. __I __will __be __forced __to __succeed __where __my __race __has __faltered, __and __somehow __save __Our __world.__" _

"This is some whacked-up dream…" Desmond murmured to himself.

"_When __you __are __ready, __we __shall __commence.__" _

"We are as ready as we will ever become, sir." Ezio remarked drily, folding his arms.

"_So __be __it.__" _


	2. I: The Scholar

Altair felt a protest rising in his throat when the light overcame him. Despite Ezio's hasty claim, he _wasn__'__t_ready- several questions still plagued his mind. And as the same eerie whiteout engulfed him, the Master Assassin's sense of foreboding only heightened. Altair closed his eyes and waited for the spinning to stop…

His boots hit solid ground. Slowly, the Assassin squinted an eye open. Gone was the metallic chamber and its population; from what he could tell, Altair was completely alone.

The sky- yes, sky- was grey and twisted; a reflection of Altair's inner anxiety. Examining his surroundings carefully, the Mentor found himself trapped by a sage green hedge wall that towered nearly fifteen feet into the air. There was only one escape from the botanical box- a narrow pathway leading somewhere off right…

"_This __is __the __test __of __wisdom.__"_

Erebus' voice boomed throughout the landscape like thunder. Altair started, almost expecting to find the god somewhere within the maze when he whirled around. But he was not surprised to find nothing but silence accompanied him.

Seeing no other alternative, Altair begrudgingly obeyed the voice and commenced his test. He began by following the narrow pathway east (or at least it seemed east to him).

The trail led on in one direction for a time, and it was soothing. After a few minutes, Altair almost believed he had found the way out. But just when he was becoming most comfortable, the hedge wall morphed and suddenly the trail took a drastic turn. The Master Assassin yelped in surprise and quickly set onto the new path before the maze could swallow him.

It continued on in this way, wreaking havoc on the man's nerves. For a few minutes the going would be smooth, then the wall would shift with a rustling of leaves and latch onto his shoulder, gnawing past his robes and onto pure bone. The maze's grip was incredibly strong as it jerked Altair further away from the road. Finally, the Assassin sliced himself free with his sword and made a break for it, sprinting blindly forward.

After an eternity of aimless wandering, Altair reached an unusually large area free of hedge. It was still a box, but a slightly roomier one. Four trails led off in different directions before him; Altair elected to sit and rest before pursuing any of them.

The Master Assassin collapsed onto the dirt, breathing heavily. Test of wisdom indeed, he thought as he sat up, brushing his forehead with his sleeve. Whatever this Erebus figure was, he certainly knew how to confuse a man. Altair had no idea what to make of the supernatural, living plant wall. Perhaps this whole ordeal was one strange dream.

Altair had just let his guard down when the hedge rustled again. However, the Assassin was nowhere near it, and he doubted it had the power to swallow him from a distance of thirty feet.

But the hedge did not move. Instead, a small creature emerged from within the maze, blinking slowly at the white-cloaked figure resting in the plaza.

He squinted at the animal as it came closer.

"What sorcery…" The exclamation died on his lips as Altair studied the little monster further:

Upon its face were incrusted four black eyes, along with two evil looking pincers and tiny rows of teeth dripping from its mouth. The animal was roughly the size of a rat, and shared its long, spiny tail. Six legs, like an insect's, protruded from its furry body, and they clicked against each other as the monster moved forward.

As Altair watched it, several others appeared. They all seemed drawn to his presence, staring at him with lifeless eyes.

Then, without warning, they pounced.

The Master Assassin had hardly time to comprehend he was under attack before his hands were wrapped around a pair of pincers only centimeters from his throat. The creature snapped angrily as Altair struggled to subdue it, bucking with its multiple legs.

Finally, Altair activated his hidden blades, and the animal died with a tortured shriek. Altair jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. The others coiled their powerful legs and leapt at him, pincers flaring.

The first to reach him was cleaved in two, oozing yellow blood onto the ground. The second was impaled, but the third knocked him to the ground.

It struggled atop him like a furious hound, aiming to rip his neck asunder. Altair cried out in desperation as he fought the demon creature, defending his throat as best as possible. His sword did him little good, as the enormous body of its last victim was hopelessly stuck, blood splattering onto Altair's robes as he used it to trap the snapping pincers. When Altair tossed the sword to the side, the animal was thrown with it. It sat, dazed for a moment while Altair recovered.

When the Assassin drew his short blade to kill it, the monster screamed, legs coiling for another strike. But this time Altair took initiative, hurling his knife straight at the thing's body.

Its shriek cut off with a yowl when the knife struck it, throwing it a couple feet. When the body finally stopped rolling, it had left a deep trail of yellow pus behind.

Tired, but satisfied with the prospect of being alive, Altair set about to collecting his weapons, nudging the corpses as he passed them.

"Nightmares," Altair whispered when one of the animal's legs would not stop twitching, despite being decapitated, "True nightmares."

Altair did not need anymore convincing that he had rested long enough. When the hedge rustled once more, the Assassin ran.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He did not know which was worse- tedious hours dodging the hands of the living maze, or fighting for his life with insects the size of rats. In the end, Altair had to choose the former- it was less likely to stain his robes.

Altair had been traversing the labyrinth for far too long. His body was tiring; he needed food and water. And above those mundane requirements, he wondered- what if there was no way out? What if Erebus had engineered the test to be impassable? A fine excuse to discard his brothers' choice and take control of the situation himself, something the little god seemed to enjoy.

As he plodded on endlessly, the Master Assassin tried to recall what he had studied about Erebus in Greek mythology. There was not much available information on the god; only that he was a patron of darkness and evil. Altair had to agree the title had him skeptical- what makes one god evil and another good?

He remembered the woman Erebus had shown him earlier. Hera, he called her… It was entirely possible she had taught the Greeks that Erebus was not to be trusted, and overeager scholars had attributed the rest.

Altair's ponderings were interrupted by shifting in the leaves up ahead. No doubt it was the next patrol of nightmares; come to speed up his progress. Erebus must be tired of waiting, Altair mused.

The Assassin drew his sword, but couldn't help feeling that the effort was futile. Perhaps the little demons served another purpose other than only to bump him along…

As the nightmares drew closer, an idea took hold in Altair's mind. It was shaky one, but one that might just work…

The moment the first creature shouted its battle cry and coiled its legs, Altair commanded: "Stop!"

The beasts halted, four sets of eyes blinking up at him soullessly.

"Stop."

They waited, pincers clicking with each ragged breath.

Altair closed his eyes and dropped his sword. The nightmares did not react, only stared.

"Please show me the exit."

There was murmuring amongst the insects. Teeth chattered, legs snapped and tails whipped. If they were going to pounce, Altair was ready for them- but he wanted to give the illusion that he was peaceful. It was a tactic Maria had suggested once, but he had never used.

Finally, the rats turned. Altair watched as they scuttled away, back towards the brush they tumbled from.

But, to the Assassin's amazement, they did not vanish. Instead, the pincers previously used to snap at his throat were utilized against the living hedge, eating through it faster than any blade.

Altair followed cautiously as the monsters cleared him a path. Before long, they had cut through to the other side of the maze, revealing an ancient temple structure.

The Assassin emerged from the plant wall, staring up at the white columned building before him. Behind him, the nightmares retreated into the maze, their legs clicking in a disturbing fashion. Altair shuddered, glad to be rid of them.

Anxious to conclude his test, and with no better option in sight, Altair ascended the steps leading into the Greek temple. Though he was exhausted, he noted with pleasure that his young legs could still easily climb stairs, unlike his ninety-one-year-old form.

The building's interior was pitch black; the only light streamed in from the grey skies behind him. Altair stumbled further in, until finally torches erupted from all sides.

Fire informed him that the room was circular. There was no entry door, and there was no clear exit in sight. Altair could not recall how on Earth he had arrived there.

In the center of the room stood an elderly robed figure. Altair drew closer, hoping to identify it- but slowy, the man turned around and hit him with a smirk.

"Altair ibn La'Ahad," He spoke cruelly, "What a twist of fate."

"Abbas…" Altair hissed.

While Altair had somehow managed to revert to his younger self, Abbas looked just as foul as he had the morning he died. The Sofian was glad to be recognized.

"I knew I was right," Abbas continued, "That there was a world beyond ours. I found my father there, and he did not agree with what you told me as I died in your arms."

Altair felt a bitter retort on his tongue, but allowed his companion the chance to speak.

"And now your time has come, and I have found you." The Sofian explained. Altair understood now why Abbas had smiled so little in his lifetime- the expression was hideously frightening upon his face.

"Abbas, I did not lie-"

"Even in death, he denies it!" Abbas crowed to an invisible audience, "Can you not accept the fact that you are _wrong_, Altair? That your stupid imagination conjured your version of my father's death?"

Altair did not have the strength to speak the truth.

"I respected you so much," The old man spat in contempt, "And you betrayed all of us. Wasted your life gazing into the crystal ball that _nothing _could separate you from!"

Abbas paused, wanting to deliver the next few words with malice, "Not even the death of your own _son._"

It took every ounce of restraint not to kill him again. Altair felt rage bubbling in his blood, and his fists clenched. But he would not talk back. He would not allow Abbas to harass him in the afterlife as he had already for sixty-nine years.

"Sef was such a kind boy, nothing at all like you-"

"Do not speak his name." Altair growled. How ironic that in the end it was not the Templars that stole his youngest child from him, but the jealousy of a fellow Assassin.

Abbas' smile only deepened, pleased that he had found a vein to suck on.

"Darim, then. A model student, but with even less brains than his bastard father. If only he'd arrived a moment sooner that day, he might have saved his mother's life…"

No, Altair thought, I will not let him defile her name as well. The Assassin did not know if he would be able to hold himself back if Abbas mentioned his late wife.

"In all honesty, I was hoping Maria might be spared," Abbas proceeded with mock sincerity, "She was a beautiful and wise woman, was she not? It was painfully obvious to the rest of the Brotherhood that you didn't deserve her. You were always arguing, insisting she was too soft and sensitive."

Altair's fingers played with his hidden blades, but he would not draw them. He was a ninety-one-year-old man, and he was not about to let himself get bullied into a corner.

"It's just too bad she died for your arrogance," Abbas whispered, "If only you'd let the Apple go, she could have lived. Malik as well-" the Sofian interrupted himself suddenly, placing a finger to his lips like a schoolgirl remembering an assignment.

"Remember Malik? The best friend you abandoned?"

Altair almost wanted to beg him to stop, but he would not stoop that low.

This lack of response angered Abbas, and he shambled closer. The elderly man, who stank of moss and mold, placed his hands on Altair's shoulders and murmured into his ear.

"_You __killed __them. __It__'__s __your __fault __they__'__re __dead.__" _

But Altair had no reply.

Abbas scowled, "Well? Too smart to answer, or finally feeling ninety-one years of guilt?"

Silence.

The old man groaned in frustration, "What's wrong with you? Defend yourself!"

Altair said nothing.

Abbas's face contorted into a visage of absolute fury. His livid shouts shook the room, and Altair closed his eyes. The ground trembled, the torchlight sputtered and sparked, and above it all Abbas screamed. For a moment, the entire room was flooded with chaos, and Altair felt the Earth beneath him splitting.

And then there was nothing.

When Altair's sight returned, the room was empty. Before him stood a door where previously there had been nothing but stone. Altair, still shocked from Abbas' outburst, staggered towards it.

His fingers curled around the door handle and pulled, leading him into a small, circular chamber. Light poured from the ceiling, and Altair was given a view of the stormy sky. The sunlight was focused on an altar, upon which lay four golden rods. Altair approached them, and when his hands felt their smoothness, a child's voice announced:

"_You __have __displayed __the __ultimate __wisdom- __the __wisdom __to __hold __one__'__s __tongue. __You __have __done __well, __scholar. __The __reward __is __yours.__" _

Erebus' presence faded, along with the rest of the chamber. Soon, it was only Altair, the white space, and the four lengths of gold that floated together in silent union…


	3. II: The Messenger

Darkness enveloped Ezio once more, and the Italian's heart began to race when his companions faded from view.

Suddenly, the floor gave way beneath him and Ezio fell. He cried out in surprise, arms flailing, instinctively trying to grab anything to stall his descent. The frantic seconds ticked by as the Assassin struggled without success to regain balance.

Just as alarmingly as he had fallen, Ezio stood. There was a floor beneath his feet, and it seemed almost as though he had never plummeted to begin with.

Slowly, the black fog receded to reveal a cityscape. Cobblestone roads paved themselves before the Assassin's eyes, and buildings sprouted from the ground likes trees. But surprisingly enough, this was not what held Ezio's attention.

It was the fact that the city he now found himself facing was his hometown: _Firenze._

"What is this…?" Ezio breathed, but before he could wonder further a young boy's voice spoke, almost as if to answer him:

"_This is the test of strength," _It announced. No additional instructions followed.

Ezio wanted to shrug off the sense of foreboding that sunk in his chest, but something about the artificial city was quite eerie. No citizens traversed the streets, as they always had in the Assassin's memories. Not a single bird's song wafted through the air, and the buildings were deathly silent.

It was only now that Ezio recognized his current location as the street he'd grown up on. He looked around briefly, and sure enough his childhood home stood before him, gazing down on him as it always had.

Something told the Master Assassin that he ought to go inside; a tugging feeling in his legs assured him it was the right move. Slowly and cautiously, he made his way to the palazzo.

As with the rest of the city, the courtyard was empty. However, Madam Auditore's flower garden still bloomed on its walls, and its benches were swept clean- not nearly as scum-laden and dilapidated as they were in Ezio's reality.

But it was in his father's old office that Ezio's hair really began to stand on end. The moment he opened the door, a long dead voice greeted him:

"There you are, my son."

Ezio felt his mouth go dry and his eyes widened.

Giovanni Auditore's features grew concerned at his reaction. The elder man took a few hesitant steps forward.

"Are you alright, Ezio?" He asked, fingers resting gently on the edge of his desk.

"Father?" Ezio whispered. Even thirty-seven years after his family's murder, the image of his father haunted him. To see him in flesh in blood was truly to see a ghost.

"I hope you are not coming down with anything," Giovanni smiled half-heartedly, "I need you today, what with Federico salvaging his job."

The Assassin's head was swimming. Where was he? _When _was he? What form of sorcery had managed to completely resurrect his father? 

"Here," The elder Auditore turned his back for a moment, then approached with a thin envelope. He extended it to Ezio, who accepted it mutely.

The envelope's leathery exterior brought Ezio back to his senses. _Remember the empty street, _he told himself firmly; _this place is not what it seems. _

"I need you to deliver this to Lorenzo's palazzo."

Ezio nodded and grinned at his parent the way he always had. There was no need to worry his father for the few minutes he had him back. "Yes, Father. I'll get it done."

Giovanni returned the gesture, "Good boy. Your mother should be here when you return, and she will doubtless need more assistance from you."

The Master Assassin was glad there was no one on the street to see his tears.

Ezio rounded a corner, and the moment Palazzo Auditore vanished from his sight the world went dark. This time the Assassin did his best to remain calm and wait. Sure enough, the child's voice addressed him:

_"Do not lose that envelope."_

A simple task, it seemed.

Suddenly, the Auditore's surroundings morphed drastically. The inky blackness was replaced by a Roman countryside, lit only by the full moon's glare.

"There he is!"

The shout startled the Assassin, who whirled around to face more than a dozen Borgia soldiers, weapons drawn.

He grimaced and drew his own blade, steeling himself for the long fight that lay ahead. A Borgia halberdier lunged at him, and Ezio only just managed to dodge. With his free hand, he yanked the poleax's shaft, staggering its wielder. Once the man stumbled into range, the Assassin finished him with an iron thrust through his sternum.

Two more soldiers leapt at him, seemingly enraged by their comrade's demise. Ezio parried the first sword blow and returned his own while firing his hidden gun straight into his other opponent's throat.

With two more bodies on the floor, three men replaced them. The Auditore defeated the footmen as well, but even more Borgia men materialized.

Ezio sacrificed a few precious seconds to look around. The bloodbath took place in the center of a field- there were no horses, no nearby campsites, no buildings. Where could the men possibly be coming from?

Further more, they did not tire, and they showed neither fatigue nor pain. Slowly, Ezio began to realize they were just as spectral as his father had been earlier. He could not possibly defeat them all, if they were mere fabrications. There must be some other way to solve this puzzle…

Hoping to god he was right, Ezio rolled out of the way of an axe's head and ran.

"He's bolting; stop him!"

Their voices were prerecorded messages being replayed by his memory.

The Auditore did not know where he had intended to escape to. But almost as though rewarding his wisdom, the Roman countryside vanished and was instantly replaced with the Roman slums. Ezio yelled in alarm when he barreled at top speed towards a stone wall- luckily, he managed to brake in time.

However the Borgians' heavy footfalls still pounded behind him, and so the Assassin resumed his getaway. He was becoming immensely grateful that Erebus had provided him with a younger body. Running this far and long with his weakened knee and aching hands would have been a dire challenge.

Perhaps the godchild did not want them to fail after all…

After an unknown, but lengthy amount of time sprinting, Rome and its army disappeared. Ezio found he was getting tired of the spinning feeling that accompanied scene changes. But the stiller he kept, the easier the transitions became.

He was back in the country now, but it was Tuscan, not Roman. Instead of a dark nighttime setting, the sun warmed the rolling Italian meadows.

Cautiously, the Assassin examined his new surroundings. They were sparse in detail- he stood on a wide dirt road. On both sides green grass and flowers flanked him. Before him the open road stretched on for miles without end…but he felt no other choice but to follow it.

Shortly before setting out, Ezio's fingers snaked into his sash. They retrieved the envelope his father had given him, still in worthy condition. Ezio sighed in relief and tugged at the casing's opening, curious of its contents.

He was not incredibly surprised to find that it would not open. Replacing the envelope, and feeling somewhat guilty for trying to access his father's documents no matter what logic his mind applied, Ezio put one foot forward and walked the empty path.

It was a long and peculiar journey. For a long time, he travelled in peace and quiet, with nothing to accompany him but boredom and his many questions. But the longer Ezio walked (still grateful for his functioning knee), the stranger his environment became. He began to notice…things, piling up on the grasses.

Most of them were morose sights: a couple lying dead, cradled in each other's arms though stained with blood. A leafless tree decorated with the swinging corpses of young men. A destroyed farm on a hill in the distance, smoke licking dry the last of its flames. These disgusting images continued to assault him, but still Ezio walked.

When he passed a decapitated child, he shielded his eyes.

After a while he began to question his faith in this matter. Were the corpses real? Had they been actual men and women, or just more of Erebus' ghosts? What was the point of exposing him to such madness? But there were no answers. And to sit and guess would be futile. So Ezio journeyed on, heart heavy with sorrow.

It was difficult to tell, but an object was appearing on the horizon. The Auditore squinted ahead, but he could not discern what it was at the end of the road…Other than the end of the road. It was now, as his travelling came to a close, that the sickening pictures faded and were replaced with cheerful ones.

As he drew closer and closer to his passage's end, he witnessed two children, a boy and a girl, chasing each other merrily. He saw a beautiful garden, filled with blossoming flowers, and a white deer traipsed gracefully to his right. But, Ezio found himself admitting, even this burst of good could not outweigh the evil he had observed.

The road's close was clear now. Before him stood a great door, but curiously no building behind it. It merely stood on its own, with no support at all.

Ezio noted that the grand door had a keyhole. Inspired, the Assassin's hand drifted to his middle, removing the envelope carefully… Yes, the flap lifted now. But the packet was empty.

Before the Italian could consider what this meant, a wide hand slapped his shoulder and he jumped.

"Welcome, brother! It's been a while, no?"

The Auditore turned to find himself staring into the wild eyes of Yusuf Tazim, ex-leader of the Ottoman Assassins.

Despite his circumstances, Ezio was still stunned to meet the friend he'd buried almost a year ago. His jaw dropped and he found he could say nothing while the Turk looked him over.

"You look…different, Ezio."

"Yusuf…" Ezio finally surpassed shock and sighed, eyelids heavy with grief. How many more apparitions would he suffer through before this ordeal ended?

"Ah, it is you!" Yusuf seemed delighted, "I was becoming afraid I'd picked a random stranger."

"We are the only two here, friend." Ezio joked lightly.

"Yes, it seems so," Yusuf looked away for a moment before patting his companion on the arm, "So, what's that you've got?"

The Auditore lifted the envelope in his grasp, "This?"

Yusuf nodded and held out his hand for it. Ezio was about to turn it over when Erebus' words rang in his head: _do not lose this envelope. _

Ezio took a step back. This could be trick.

"What's wrong?" The Turk asked, brows raised. Ezio opened his mouth to answer, but a bright flash interrupted him.

Suddenly it was no longer Yusuf that stood before him, but his own sister.

"Ezio, give me the letter," She commanded, holding out a delicate palm.

Ezio did not reply, but steadied his grip on the small piece of parchment.

Claudia became exasperated, "Do not be selfish, brother! Father always gives you important things to look at, and it's high time you shared!"

"Claudia, you-" Ezio tried to explain, but the ghost that was his sister would not have it.

"Give it to me!"

Another flash and the girl was replaced by a tall, heavy man.

"Nephew," He spoke gently now, a pleasant change from Claudia's biting tone, "Your father would have wanted me to have it."

Ezio paused. He looked into the patient, caring face of his father's brother and shook his head sadly, "No, Uncle. I am sorry."

Mario sighed, "Ezio, why do you always try to bear the burden yourself?"

A large, gloved hand found its way onto his shoulder, and Ezio found he could not brush it off.

"How could it possibly hurt to let me take a quick look? My intentions have been to help you from the start, dear nephew."

"Believe me, I know," The younger Auditore explained, but Mario's sincerity made it difficult to step away, "But I cannot give you this one thing, Uncle. Please…understand."

The flashes were happening so quickly Ezio was no longer acknowledging them.

"Give it to me now, Auditore scum," Vieri snarled, "Or I'll rip your teeth out one by one!"

Ezio laughed meanly, comprehending the next twist, "If you think I am afraid of _you_, Vieri, you are sorely mistaken."

The young man growled in frustration and suddenly attacked his companion. Both Ezio and Vieri were thrown to the ground, where the black-cloaked youth's hands grabbed at the letter.

"Give it to me! Give it to me _now!" _

It took a few more moments of struggling before Ezio was finally able to free his wrist and plunge his hidden blade deep into Vieri's gut.

But it was Cristina's tortured cry that bit the air. Ezio felt a wave of remorse strike him as his first love rolled onto the grass, blood blooming across her gown.

"Ezio?" Cristina whispered in disbelief, soft brown misting with tears, "…Why?"

This was not a ghost, but a memory. A terrible sense of déjà vu filled the Assassin as he gathered the dying girl in his arms, guilt rising within him with her every breath.

Finally, Cristina's chest fell silent and Ezio was left alone once more. He allowed her body to slide from his arms, her head thudding softly against the grass.

When Ezio opened the envelope a second time, a key fell out. Ezio climbed to his feet and returned to the door, sparing Cristina one last glance before inserting the key into the lock and pushing his way in. The door easily bent open, and Ezio stepped into another reality.

A small, circular chamber was the new setting. Light poured from a small orifice in the ceiling, and it hit what appeared to be an altar. Ezio approached the stone table cautiously, and a set of four black rectangles appeared on its surface.

The Auditore gazed upon the small, almost shimmering objects. The moment he traced one with his finger, Erebus spoke:

"_You have done well, messenger. You have shown true strength both of body and spirit. The reward is yours." _

With no further explanation given, Ezio decided to collect the rectangles and place them in his sash. But no sooner had they come into his possession than the world turned white, and the Assassin was drifting again…


	4. III: The Protector

Desmond was falling; the wind was whipping in his ears and pressing into his skin. His arms were flailing, desperately trying to grab a hold of something, but were unsuccessful in their search.

Finally, his back slammed against the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs and the clarity from his vision. Desmond coughed, inhaling with difficulty as he blinked. The ex-bartender then analyzed his body's condition, gently prodding each of his limbs. Nothing seemed broken, aside from his sanity…

Slowly, Desmond sat up.

"What the hell…" he murmured. Gone was the large room with the screen- now the Assassin found himself outdoors. The floor beneath him was packed dirt with a few scattered tufts of grass. A few hills rolled in the distance, and the sky above was grey and heavy. _It's going to rain, _Desmond told himself, even though the thought was bizarre at the time.

The Assassin climbed to his feet and looked around. Before he could take a step forward, however, Erebus' voice proclaimed:

"_This is the test of skill._"

Desmond started, whirling about to find the speaker. However he knew there was little chance Erebus would be present. The godchild was like something out of a foreign sci-fi TV series; always appearing and disappearing, playing with words and images, wearing cheap-looking attire from some century BCE picked out of a hat.

"Just once," Desmond grumbled to himself, "Just once I'd like to get a straight answer out of someone."

A rumble of thunder interrupted his groaning, and Desmond decided it was time to get moving. Though it felt crazy, maybe if he kept walking he'd find someone. If it really did rain, and the clouds were threatening an instant downpour, he'd need shelter. So, the Assassin picked a direction and put one foot in front of the other.

As he walked, the ex-bartender considered his plight. He had been sitting in the Sanctuary when it happened: a bright burst of light. The last thing Desmond remembered before his skewed prison was the cold feeling of Altair's statue beneath his fingertips.

And then…He'd thought it strange, the voices he heard. As he'd been exploring what he assumed was an animus-fueled hallucination, Altair began to speak. Then Ezio answered him, and the two conversed- Desmond heard the entire ordeal. Then they found him, and all three of them had been united. There was something about that fact that disturbed Desmond. He'd been standing there, right next to Altair and Ezio, his ancestors. So why did he feel like he hadn't? Shouldn't he feel moved, or inspired? Shouldn't he be crawling at the Masters' feet, begging they answer his questions? Shouldn't he be in awe?

The entire tribulation just served to make Desmond feel even more disappointed in himself. That's what life had always been- Desmond letting himself down. It was only recently he'd been given the opportunity to let _others _down as well.

Another growl of thunder, and this time Desmond felt a few drops. His feet were growing tired of the endless plodding, and his arms were growing restless. The Assassin couldn't say how much longer he could take this pointless wandering.

It was then he first noticed it- a large, black tower in the distance. If he squinted, it didn't even look that far away. Surely he could reach it before the rain started, and where there was a building there were usually people.

Heartened, albeit only a little, Desmond broke into a run. He couldn't help but smile as he picked up speed. Running had always been one of his favorite hobbies. It rid him of the restlessness in his muscles, and the ticking sensation in his mind that told him that there was nothing he could do. In a way, Desmond felt it was poetic- always running, never knowing what from. But…He'd never been one for poetry.

The tower loomed closer and closer until finally the ex-bartender pulled to a halt. Just as he'd stooped over to catch his breath, a bolt of lightning split the sky, and the rain came pouring in. Desmond heaved a sigh as the heavy droplets assaulted his head and shoulders. Luckily he'd made it in time…

However, a quick analysis revealed that the building had no door. Desmond circled the structure, confused and frustrated, searching for any form of opening. But there was none.

"What…-?"

Before Desmond could finish his exclamation, one of the tower's smooth black stones jutted out at him. For a moment, Desmond stared stupidly at it, rain slicking its fine-cut surface. Then, slowly, he craned his neck and observed several other footholds as they poked out to greet him.

"Oh, you are _kidding _me!"

The tower relinquished no response.

Desmond wrapped his arms around himself. The rain's icy bite was getting to him, but he would have to be crazy to climb up into the storm. Although, the longer he stayed there, the more pronounced the thunder became, and the more obvious the footholds made themselves. Soon Desmond realized he would need to follow the test's course, or freeze to death in a half-imaginary wasteland.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" The Assassin lamented as he cautiously began his ascent.

The stones were slippery, but they were many as well. Desmond's initial climb was not hard, despite the howling wind and angry lightning, but the further he got the tower seemed to change. The footholds lost their shiny surface and became hard rock instead, the kind that burned Desmond's palms as they wrapped around them. They became far between, and Desmond was forced to spread himself thin to keep the climb going. Once when he was reaching for a stone, the rock in question sucked itself back into the tower, and Desmond nearly plummeted to his death finding another hold.

Rain pelted the Assassin mercilessly as he highered himself over and over. In addition to the disappearing footholds, spikes occasionally burst forth from the structure in random areas. One had already sliced Desmond's arm, and another nearly stuck his leg. As the climb got more and more perilous, Desmond had to wonder why this was happening to him. What could he have done to deserve such terrible torment?

Just as he was considering letting go of his jagged footholds and tumbling back to the earth, a ledge appeared above him. Its large, rectangular surface deflected the rain and allowed Desmond's ringing head some peace. As quickly as possible, Desmond scurried onto the ledge with numb hands and threw himself through the door before him.

Immediately the walls closed in behind him, and for a few seconds Desmond was left in darkness. Then, a dim red light illuminated a hallway that seemed impossibly long, considering the tower's outer dimensions.

Desmond knew his proctor expected him to follow the path, but he found himself hesitant. The corridor seemed just as dangerous as the building's exterior, and it didn't help that it was clearly in defiance of the laws of physics. But, when the ground beneath him suddenly began to heat up, Desmond found the courage to move.

He noted as he walked that Erebus had many ways of keeping him busy. Whenever he stopped to rest, some new device would shock him, burn him, poke him, or find some other way to encourage his movement.

Eventually, Desmond happened upon a large room. The moment he crossed its threshold, an obnoxious ticking noise sounded; ticking like the hands of a clock.

Desmond could make out another door on the opposite side of the room, but when he made his way towards it, a wall suddenly sprang up. The ex-bartender scaled it, but once he reached the top yet another obstacle appeared. The harder he tried to reach the other end of the chamber, the more barriers impeded him: a wall, a bed of spikes, an iron bar, a swinging pendulum-axe, all sorts of traps were just waiting to be triggered. Finally, and through great difficulty, Desmond reached the other end.

A loud slam sounded through the tower as the metal door clamped shut behind him.

The Assassin rounded the corner with caution and came to an immense stairwell. Peering up, Desmond noted with a sense of hopelessness that it could easily contain thousands of steps. The top of the well was nowhere in sight, but Desmond knew better than to halt a moment to rest his legs.

And so began the long hike. This test was a never-ending assessment of his patience, if not skill. After at least five or six flights, the exhausted ex-bartender thought he heard someone call his name.

"Desmond…"

A whisper at first, or maybe an echo. It was enough to make the man pause, but no enough to keep him there. Afraid of whatever torturous gadget should prod him, Desmond resumed climbing.

"Desmond!"

The voice was getting strong now, but Desmond knew there was not a soul in this entire tower. He didn't know how- he just knew.

"Desmond, what do you think you're doing?" It accused him.

"Dad?" The Assassin called wearily, eyes not moving from the step in front of him.

"Running away from home, getting a dead-end job in New York, of all places. Could you possibly think of a greater danger to thrust yourself into? Templars feed on corruption, and New York is built on it!"

"Shut the hell up, Dad," Desmond replied, gasping for breath, "you don't scare me anymore."

The truth was that Desmond missed his father. The night Abstergo came for him was the only time he'd ever wished for his father's protection. But it had been nine years… And William had never shown him anything but cruel discipline. No, William was no more his father than Ezio or Altair.

"Maybe your mother can talk some sense into you." Bill's words faded, though it was clear from his tone that the Mentor believed no such thing.

"Desmond? Desmond?"

God, why did this feel so familiar? It was like the phone-call they'd never had.

"Mother…" To his own ears, Desmond's voice sounded weak and tired. His mother was a good woman. She didn't deserve a rebellious son like him, or a controlling husband like Bill. Still, Desmond continued the hike, trying hard to ignore her pleas.

"Why?" The tears were the worst part, "What didn't we give you? What didn't we say?"

"Mother, it's not…" Desmond rasped, his chest heaving with every breath, his thighs burning with irritation, his throat begging for water, "It's not your fault."

"How?" She choked out, the invisible grieving figure. "I should have seen it. I should have known you would run before you did."

He could not think of anything to say, and instead focused on the laborious work of moving.

"Oh God…" She cried, "I am a terrible mother."

The sound of her weeping haunted Desmond and grew more and more pronounced the further he went. It was so clear at once point that Desmond turned around and was surprised not to see her behind him.

"Mother…" He whispered softly, then shook his head. His eyes wet, he yelled into the stairwell: "Dammit, get out of my head!"

For the majority of the climb afterwards, the phantoms were silent. Desmond's mother fled with a final sob, and he pictured his father glaring disapprovingly at him. But neither said another word, and for that he was grateful.

The rest of the steps blurred together into a memory Desmond could not access. He knew not for how long he climbed, only that when he finally reached the top, it was no longer raining outside.

Desmond staggered onto the tower's roof, the sun just beginning to peek out at him from behind angry storm clouds. He could see the entire unreal wilderness laid out before him, including the glen where he awoke. It seemed so small and insignificant compared to the hardships he had just endured.

Behind him, a quiet tinkling sound began. Desmond turned to find a circular altar, and a small disk sat upon it. He approached cautiously, his hand reaching out to stroke the round object.

But before he could take it, a familiar voice made him stop.

"Desmond?" Lucy asked, "Where are we?"

He couldn't believe it. There she was- Lucy Stillman, wandering about the tower's roof as though she'd been there all along.

"Lucy?" He mouthed, eyes widening. "How-?"

Was she real? Desmond's features narrowed as his mind played with the thought that she was just a figment of his stressed imagination. That feeling he'd had in the stairwell, that certainty that he was all alone in this wasteland…could it have been wrong? Lucy seemed much more corporeal than his parents had been.

Suddenly, Lucy let out a gasp as the ground beneath her crumbled and she fell.

"Lucy!" Desmond cried, running over to the spot where she'd been standing. Luckily, the Assassin had managed to grab hold of some of the tower's rock, and was dangling.

"I'm alright," She answered loudly, looking up with a brief smile, "But I could use some help."

Desmond extended his hand to her, but then the altar began to tip as well. It seemed the entire building was crumbling. Desmond pulled back, aware that the disk was important, and he should not allow it to fall.

"_The choice is yours, Protector,_" Erebus said calmly, "_But know that you may only save one." _

"Desmond?" Lucy called, afraid, "What's happening?"

The ex-bartender's thoughts swirled in his head. Could it really be her? He saw Ezio and Altair earlier- were they shades as well? They hadn't acted like it. What if Erebus had somehow managed to steal Lucy from the Sanctuary in the same way he'd stolen Desmond?

If he let her fall…would she die?

"Desmond-" Lucy shrieked as her hold became more unsteady and her legs began to flail in the air, "Help!"

"What-" Desmond's throat closed and every single one of his questions was answered with one response: panic, "_What am I supposed to do?" _

The altar groaned and splintered as its base began to snap and it tipped precariously towards the edge. If he didn't act soon, Desmond knew there wouldn't be a choice left to make.

Lucy screamed as her fingers lost their purchase and she fell loose-

-But not far. Desmond's hands wrapped around her arm, ensuring she did not drop any farther.

"I've got you," He muttered as he pulled her up, drawing her into his arms. Lucy sighed in relief and her tense muscles relaxed, leaning into his touch. Desmond murmured again into her hair:

"I've got you…"

"_Fool," _Erebus accused, _"You have abandoned your reward and must face your peers empty-handed."_

Suddenly, Desmond was falling again. Lucy disappeared, along with the warm sun and slippery roof. The last thing he was noticed before unconsciousness set in was the godchild's condemning words:

"_Correct this mistake, or you will have doomed yourself and your kin." _


	5. IV: Together

Desmond opened his eyes slowly, one at a time. To his dismay, he was back in the skewed, dreamlike reality he had first appeared in. However he felt no different than he had in the tower- he was still thirsty, exhausted, and confused.

A groan to his right alarmed him, and Desmond turned sharply. Surprisingly (or not, as how could one possibly anticipate what happened next in this little prison?), Ezio lay on the ground, seemingly having popped out of nowhere. The ex-bartender watched the Italian pick himself up and look around.

"Ezio," The name brought him much comfort. It helped Desmond realize that he was not alone.

The Renaissance Assassin nodded in acknowledgement, and once Altair joined them the three stood in silence, wondering what Erebus could have in store for them now.

"_You have all performed admirably," _The child spoke without warning; "_Only one last test awaits you now."_

_ "However, one among your number has failed._" Erebus paused for a moment, and shivers went up Desmond's spine. "_For this, I shall penalize you all. If you manage to solve the puzzle regardless, it shall be noted in high esteem."_

The Assassins waited until the god's voice receded to the metallic corners it had come from. Desmond muttered half to himself, and half to his companions:

"What's his problem?"

Desmond noticed something was wrong when his Italian ancestor raised his brows and asked 'scusi'. Altair also stared at him with a frown.

Blood fled his cheeks as Erebus' punishment dawned on the ex-bartender.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?" Desmond said quickly, using his hands as much as possible.

Altair merely continued to watch him, while Ezio shrugged.

"Mi dispiace, ma non capisco."

Finally, the eldest of the three felt he had to intervene. Altair took a tentative step forward and spoke slowly:

"Ain ta'am bi'zeh," He hesitated, then started to walk away. He gestured for the other two men to follow him, explaining: "Bou lakhkor kizat, ulirot mah anu mozaim."

Confusion was evident, but the Assassins trudged on nonetheless. Altair's suggestion that they explore was a common sentiment, but the strange labyrinth they traversed made no more sense than the previous puzzles. Walls shifted, the ceiling floated inconsistently above them, and the ground seemed like it would give way at any moment.

After a great deal of walking, the threesome arrived at a door. Not an average door, but a great gate almost twenty feet in height. It seemed to be of a material not yet known by man, and lines of light traced its surface. In fact, it was impossible to know if the giant structure was a door, or merely another obstacle in their path. Or both.

"Magnifico_,_" Ezio breathed, craning his neck to observe the article in its entirety.

"Yeah, sure," Desmond scoffed, "but how are we supposed to open it?"

Ezio turned to him with a scowl, "Non essere cosi difficile, amico." His face softened as he glanced around them, "Ci deve essere una risposta vicina…"

"Whatever," The modern Assassin rolled his eyes, but agreed that a quick examination of the room wouldn't hurt. With a little more searching, the group stumbled upon a pedestal. Near it lay four golden rods and a couple of black, rectangular objects.

Altair approached the rods with interest. His companions watched him as the grandmaster fingering them, testing their weight.

"Ani zokher aleh," He explained, "Ha-skhar sheli."

Ezio picked up the black boxes, peering at them just as intently, "Ho anche ricevuto qualcosa di simile."

Desmond's brow furrowed, staring at his ancestors as they scrutinized the two sets of things that seemed familiar to them. Perhaps there was no third because he had failed? No, the test was supposed to be like this. Their punishment for failure was the lack of common vernacular.

Acting on a whim, Desmond held his hand over the pedestal. To his surprise, the dais reacted, glowing briefly where he had almost touched it.

"Hey, guys," He called for the others' attention, and each mused deeply on the new development of the glowing pedestal.

Desmond told them, "I think each of these components can help open the door."

Ezio nodded, his hand moving to his chin to stroke a nonexistent beard. The Italian then proceeded to analyze the pedestal, walking around it like an inspector. Desmond and Altair watched him, and after a few seconds his face lit up:

"Bene!" He proclaimed excitedly, then waved their attention to a hole in the bottom of the device. Altair noted that the hole fit the end of one of his golden rods, like pieces in a puzzle. The Syrian took the curious cylinders and snapped one into place at the base of the pedestal. It popped in perfectly.

"Bihseder," Altair remarked with a smile. But now the Assassins found themselves at a dead end. While the rod did connect well, its end piece did not fit into any of the others.

"Ezio, what about your little black things?" Desmond suggested. At his name, the Renaissance man looked up, but the rest of the sentence's meaning was lost on him. Altair seemed to have grasped it though, and indicated Ezio's black rectangles with a grunt. With a brief 'capsico', the Assassin gathered them in his arms and brought them over.

"Now," Desmond plucked one from Ezio's grip, "It looks like an adaptor or something…" He dropped the box next to Altair's rod. To the astonishment of all, the rectangle molded around the piece of gold and acted as a connector.

Catching on swiftly, Altair plugged in the next set of cylinders, and Ezio attached his molds. In this way, they managed to create a small track leading from the door to the pedestal.

"Umah akhshav?" Altair asked when he'd run out of rods.

"Desmond," Ezio began his suggestion cautiously, "prova a mettere la mano sul piedistallo."

Desmond's homeschooled Italian class was enough to fish the words 'hand' and 'try' from Ezio's idea, and he thought he could figure out 'pedestalo' on his own.

"I'll give it a shot," He shrugged, strolling over to the strangely crafted dais. He held his hand over it, watching in awe as the little platform lit up. Then, the spark travelled through the rods, causing them to glow. It moved quickly- Desmond had to jog to keep up with it. When the spark hit the door it shot upwards, tracing the lines cut into the object's surface. There was silence when they hit the top. Then, the door smoothly slid down, revealing a black room within.

The three Assassins entered the area with trepidation, but the moment they crossed the threshold they were enveloped yet again in darkness. A small light thrummed in the center of the enclosure, and Erebus approached before them. He stared up at the group, his boyish face a mask.

"_You have done well to open my door," _He commended them, "_I shall restore your speech." _

"Very good," Altair challenged, "but what of our tests? Have we not passed them all? Do we not appear worthy in your eyes?"

"_As I said, you have performed admirably," _The godchild replied, "_but only two have passed. Two out of three is good, but not good enough." _

"I demand the one who failed be retested," The eldest of the three continued, "It is unfair that we all be judged on the merit of a single man."

"_True, it is unfair," _Erebus agreed, _"but sometimes a single man is all that's needed to turn the tide. And should he not succeed, there will be no second chances." _

"Please, sir," Ezio stepped in, tone even, "Allow us just one more chance. If we fail you, we are yours to do away with."

Erebus considered this thought, and finally he spoke:

"_Very well. You will be given one last chance to redeem yourselves."_


	6. V: The Battle

In the time it took to blink, Erebus had changed the scenery once more. The air grew much colder, and mist pooled around the group as they examined their new surroundings.

It was the mouth of a grotto that greeted them. Erebus stood patiently at its base, allowing the Assassins a few moments to adjust themselves before explaining their final task:

"_Inside this cave you will find my counterpart, Nyx," _The godchild began when he sensed they were ready, "_your objective is to kill her." _

"Kill her?" Ezio repeated, eyebrows arced, "Is she not your wife? Your partner in all things?"

_"Nyx is a master of illusions," _Erebus clarified, "_Any phantoms you encountered on your journeys were her doing. I use 'kill' in a mortal context; obviously a god cannot be defeated by mere humans."_

_ "_And should we vanquish her," Altair said hesitantly, "you will return us home?"

"_Yes," _The boy nodded, but his expression turned grave, "_a word of caution; Nyx is ruthless. Know that her blood is poison should she wish it be, and her voice is the voice of many." _

With that, Erebus vanished again. The fog lightened enough for the threesome to take a deep look into the cavern's bottomless entrance. The opening carried every sense of ominous foreboding possible, but there was no turning back at this point.

Altair took a step forward, and the others followed. Footsteps echoed all around them as they walked and the rock walls stared silently back at them. Shivers crept up Desmond's spine as whispers penetrated the murky cloud that enveloped them.

After several minutes of exploration, Ezio stopped. His jaw was set and his eyes were wide, observations that alarmed his companions.

"Ezio?" Desmond asked quietly, reaching out to touch the Italian Assassin's arm, "Are you alright?"

The look Ezio gave him was heavy with distrust, "Do you not hear her?" his lips barely moved.

Desmond and Altair exchanged a look of bewilderment before the former continued:

"Hear who?"

Ezio only seemed to grow more distressed. At this point, Altair involved himself, bracing Ezio's other arm. The man looked ready to break into a sprint.

"There is no one here but us, friend," Altair reasoned calmly, "whatever voice you are hearing is an illusion. Rid yourself of it and rejoin your allies.

Ezio did not seem convinced. If anything, his body grew tenser and he shut his eyes. His teeth gritted together as he responded:

"I cannot stand here and do nothing."

"Ignore it," Desmond urged, "We have to keep going. I'm sorry, Ezio."

For a few moments, the nervous Assassin agreed, and they continued exploring. But only seconds later, Ezio inhaled sharply, back straightening rigidly.

"Sofia!"

Neither Assassin could grab hold of him as Ezio suddenly dashed into the fog, an erratic desperateness in his step. Altair called after him, but the man was long gone.

"It's Nyx," Desmond whispered as they continued to walk, only hoping Ezio had not run directly into a trap, "She's picking us off."

Altair nodded, but soon afterwards he faltered as well.

"What is it? What do you hear?"

The Mentor bit his lip and looked away. He answered, "My wife. My wife is crying, calling my name."

Desmond sighed, frowning, "Don't give in. You know it's not her."

Altair concurred, "That is true, but it pains me. I cannot simply put her aside."

Frustration rose in the young ex-bartender, "Yes, you can. Come on, snap out of it, dude!"

Altair licked his lips and nodded fervently, but sweat slickened his palms. The Mentor tried his hardest to follow Desmond's silhouetted form, but soon he felt himself unable to go on. It was not only Maria's voice that pleaded with him now, but the cries of his children. Darim moaned in an agony Altair could not imagine, and Sef wondered piteously why his father had abandoned him. Eventually, the Assassin could stand it no longer. Nyx had his family, and she was hurting them.

"Desmond," Altair murmured, fists clenched, "I…"

Desmond, sensing his companion's oncoming panic, grabbed the man's arms and stared into his eyes. "It's not real. None of it's real, remember?"

Tears of defeat moistened Altair's eyes as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

A sharp pain erupted in the back of Desmond's head where his skull made contact with the rocky ground. He groaned and lifted himself just enough to see Altair disappear into the fog. The man was fast; Desmond hadn't felt a thing.

The ex-bartender climbed to his feet and glanced around. He realized then that he truly was all alone. The whispers were gone now, along with Altair's footsteps. Desmond saw no other choice but to keep moving, chilled by the knowledge that he must be next. However, Nyx's seduction did not come; no sobbing reaches his ears, no threats nor insults. For some reason, the Greek goddess had seen fit to disregard him.

Suddenly there was the faintest noise- the sound of iron striking stone. It was quiet, but it was enough. Desmond turned, running as soundlessly as he could towards the noise's origin.

The sight that met him was horrifying. At first, only a shadow emerged. Desmond had mistaken it for a tree or some sort of vine, so tall and wiry it was. But the closer he drew, the more human the object appeared.

Its trunk was composed of a green-skinned woman, whose knotty hair faced Desmond's front. Her arms were hideously long, like the limbs of an oak, and her fingers split off into thick branches.

Desmond gasped in shock when he saw her right hand, which held a struggling Altair in its grasp. On the ground beneath the fighting Assassin lay a long sword, which, Desmond deduced, must have caused the sound. In Nyx's other hand hung a limp Ezio, her spiny fingers crushing the life from him.

The ex-bartender knew it was upon him to act, but the same feelings of hopelessness that overcame him during his test threatened to bubble up again.

No, Desmond steeled himself. He would not fail twice. He ignored Altair's outbursts and slowly crept towards Nyx, fingers itching on his hidden blade. When he was finally close enough, he struck; his blade plunged deep into the goddess' back.

An unearthly howl shook the cavern, the mere force of it throwing Desmond back. In her anguish, Nyx lost her hold on Altair, who fell to the ground coughing. The Master Assassin did not lose a beat, grabbing his sword and slicing at the hand that had come close to ending him.

Nyx's scream intensified until its weight pressed down on Desmond's head, causing him to slap his hands over his ears. Altair had succeeded in amputating four of her fingers, and the pain of it forced her to let go of Ezio as well.

The goddess retreated into the mist unseen as the two Assassins hurried to the third's side. Ezio's skin was tinged blue, and his breathing was very shallow. Nyx's vines had burned several angry welts into the Italian's neck and chest areas.

"Ezio!" Desmond called urgently. The Assassin did not stir.

It took a bit of coaxing (and slapping, in Altair's case) to convince Ezio to rejoin the waking world. When he did it was to many spluttered and ragged breaths, and when his eyes flew open they were wide and unfocused.

Ezio leaned heavily on his companions as they helped him up. He choked out, "What happened?"

"You were fooled, as was I," Altair informed him, replacing his sword on his belt once Ezio was well enough to stand.

"Did you kill her?" The Italian wondered, wincing as he probed his swollen jugular.

Desmond swallowed, panting, "I don't think so, but she should at least be hurt." Their gazes shifted to the black blood that dripped from his hand. "I stabbed her."

The peace was shattered viciously as Desmond was knocked to the ground by an enormous four-legged animal. The ex-bartender cried out, barely throwing his arms up in defense as a snout full of teeth tore at his throat.

A canine-like whimper bit the air when Altair lunged at the beast's flank, forcing it to abandon Desmond. The latter jumped to his feet, alarmed. Their attacker crouched into an offensive stance, preparing to pounce. The fiend reminded Desmond of a wolf, but no wolf had three heads. The youngest Assassin noted that the monster lacked one paw.

Nyx leapt at Desmond once more, not aiming to knock down, but to allow one of her heads to maul his shoulder. Desmond cried out as the rows of teeth ripped his flesh, almost bringing him to his knees. Nyx barked triumphantly when she landed behind him, ready to jump again.

However her snarl morphed into a yelp when Ezio's throwing knife embedded itself into one of the dog's heads. Nyx barreled past Desmond in an almost blind sprint and launched herself at Ezio, successfully flinging the weakened Assassin to the ground. Ezio landed with a grunt and Nyx managed to slice his arm with her claws before he pushed her off with a short-blade to the mouth.

Another knife sailed through the air and struck Nyx's second head, causing the wolf to howl wretchedly. The animal limped back into the darkness, whimpering.

"How much more can it take?" Desmond exclaimed, heaving a brief sigh of relief.

Altair shook his head, and Ezio tended to his wound. "I do not know, but I am certain she is sustaining damage. That last form lacked its upper right claw."

"So what next?" Ezio half-asked, glancing about warily for Nyx to show herself. The goddess did nothing.

Slowly, the fog began to recede. The Assassins no longer stood in a cave, but in the eye of a storm. The group of three turned to find themselves face to face with a monster the size of a building; five, reptilian heads with glistening rows of teeth and giraffe-like necks led down to a stumpy, scaled body, from which protruded six legs.

"Hydra…" Altair murmured, eyes wide.

Nyx only hissed with her five tongues and scuttled forward.

The colossus lashed out similarly to a cobra, its great necks uncoiling like springs, launching its quintupled head forward. Desmond and Altair dodged their pursuers, but Ezio drew his sword. When one of the hydra's heads propelled itself at him, the Italian leapt out of the way and brought his blade down, nearly severing the reptile's top from its spine.

A shriek split the air and shook the ground as the stem with the injured head pulled itself back. To the disgust of the three Assassins, the weight of the head caused the few tendons holding it to snap, and the body part fell to the ground wetly.

However, no sooner had the group begun to rejoice than two more faces sprouted horrifically from the bleeding orifice, each just as deadly as the other four.

"We cannot attack its heads!" Altair shouted over the monster's crowing, "Remove one, and dozens will replace it!"

"Then what can we do?" Ezio argued, ducking just in time as a bed of teeth snapped at the air above him.

"I've got an idea!" Desmond interjected, then to his fellows he instructed, "Try to keep it distracted!"

"'Distracted'," Ezio complained, but complied by pulling some knives from his belt, "how does one distract something with an infinite amount of eyes?"

Altair also did his part by hacking at the heads as they came shooting towards him. He did not aim for the neck, rather the nose and eyes. One successful hit rewarded him with a splash of black blood to the face. Ezio's front was already dripping with the stuff.

Despite their efforts, Ezio and Altair were unable to sufficiently divert the hydra. Desmond's plan needed a larger distraction than they would be able to provide. So the ex-bartender was forced to improvise.

He shouted a command to his companions, who nodded. When the next pair of snapping jaws launched forward, Altair and Ezio latched onto it, grabbing its neck with all their might. The head snarled and spat an inky solution, but the Assassins did not let go. Desmond vaulted on top of the struggling hydra's head and held on. Altair relinquished his grip long enough to toss Desmond his sword, the latter catching it clumsily.

The beast screamed unbearably loud as it pulled back, shaking tremendously. Desmond yelled with it, half out of fear and half out of the exhilaration of flying hundreds of feet in the air atop a six-headed lizard.

Finally the hydra obeyed Desmond's wishes and brought the head close enough to the body so that the Assassin could leap down, grasping the reptile's scales for support. Desmond pushed his muscles as far as they would go, trying desperately to inch towards the beast's unprotected stomach. He'd managed to make it to the hydra's armored side when a fleet of heads turned on him, crowing angrily. Desmond looked up to see a jagged set of teeth flying towards him and just barely managed to leap out of the way, crying out in alarm.

Another head threw itself at him, crashing into the hard scales of the reptile's flank and backing away for a moment, stunned. Desmond's grip was failing, and the constant rain of snakeheads did little to help it. A snapping jaw thrust itself at him and Desmond kicked it out of the way, even though the effort cost him a hand.

Pain throbbed in his fingertips as Desmond scrambled to reestablish his grip. A hiss to the right drew his attention, and the young Assassin turned just in time to see a hydra's face racing towards him, fangs displayed in a wicked smile.

A gunshot crackled through the air, and the head dropped limply to the floor.

"Ah ha! Suck my dick, you slimy bastard!"

Ezio's cheer of victory brought a smile to Desmond's face, along with much needed encouragement.

Desmond continued to scale the monster's body, sliding out of reach of its heads. The ex-bartender had successfully reached the hydra's belly. He tightened his grip on Altair's eagle-hilted sword ineptly and straightened the tip. Then, without warning, he plunged upwards.

The screams were deafening. Underneath the snake-like hissing and roaring, a woman's voice could be detected, crying out in pain. The soft skin of the hydra's stomach split in two with each stab, black blood gushing from the holes. Desmond arms were slick with the inky liquid by the time the fiend's body began to deflate. After a countless number of impulsions, the hydra finally fell.

Desmond released his hold and dropped to the ground, rolling quickly to get out of the way of its massive body. The mere size of the monster's husk kicked up a wave of dust that nearly blinded the blood-covered Assassin.

After a few moments, Desmond emerged from the cloud, coughing into his sleeve. He gasped in shock when a large mass latched onto him, but was relieved to find it was only Ezio, enveloping him in a hug.

"We did!" The Italian laughed, squeezing Desmond's lungs far tighter than was healthy, "We've succeeded, friend!"

"We'll finally be able to return home." Altair smiled and extended his hand to shake Desmond's. For a short time, the group of three bathed in their victory, in the realization that they'd finally finished the last of their troublesome tests. The body of the great hydra beside them slowly began to crumble, melting away into dust.

"Where's Erebus?" Desmond looked around, then returned his excited gaze to his companions.

Ezio shrugged, but it was Altair who drew Desmond's interest. The man's eyes were glazed, and his lips were a thin line.

"Altair?" Ezio had caught on by now, too. Not all was well.

Altair opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly his feet slid from beneath him. His fellow Assassins caught him around the arms and eased him to the floor, alarmed.

"Altair, what's wrong?" Ezio pressed.

The Mentor swallowed with difficulty, leaning against his brothers. He moved his lips, but the only sound produced was shaky. In the end, Altair was only able to relate one sentence:

"…Her blood is poison, should she wish it be…"

Desmond gasped, the answer dawning upon him. Altair heaved a sigh and rested, growing motionless in their arms.

"Desmond…"

The youngest Assassin met the Italian's grim stare. Ezio glanced downwards, then at Desmond's sleeve. The ex-bartender nodded; he understood as well.

All three of them were covered in Nyx's blood.

Altair's body began to crumble, just as the hydra's had. Desmond and Ezio were frightened by this, but there was nothing they could do. They were forced merely to watch as their teacher faded away, slipping from between their fingers.

"What was that?" Desmond muttered in disbelief.

"I do not know, brother," Ezio admitted, adjusting his seat on the floor, "but I'm sure you know we're both running on borrowed time."

Desmond sighed in agreement. Perhaps when Altair disappeared he was taken to yet another chamber of Erebus' great labyrinth. How foolish he had been to think their ordeal was final behind them. No, the godchild would never be satisfied. Desmond would not be surprised to learn Erebus had a multitude of examinations to force upon them, not interested in Athena's judgment but the continued torment of his own playthings.

The young Assassin's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet moan from Ezio. When Desmond looked up, it was nearly too late; Ezio's eyes had that same glazed look, and his hands were trembling.

He managed to catch the Italian's head before it crashed to the floor, cradling it in his own poisoned arms. Ezio stared into him emptily.

"Ezio, don't-" Desmond bit his lip, and before he could say anything else tears wet his eyes, "-don't go."

Inevitability couldn't make the pain go away. Ezio used his last few seconds to smile.

"It's alright," he whispered, lids fluttering.

Desmond's throat closed and his vision blurred. His cheeks felt hot and he began to shake. Even before Ezio's body went cold, a figure approached soundlessly behind them.

"_There is nothing you can do for him." _

Of course Erebus had come. Now that all hope had fled and Desmond was stranded in a world of his own confusion, the godchild saw fit to appear.

"Why?" He asked coldly, refusing to turn.

"_Certainly you have solved the riddle by now," _Erebus chided, "_Nyx's poison is time; thief of all things. It has already claimed them, and it will claim you as well. But not yet."_

Erebus paused, trapped in his own musings for a moment, "_No, not for a long while." _

As if to prove the god correct, Ezio's limp form faded to ash, blowing away on the wind. Desmond watched vacantly. Erebus was right, naturally. Altair and Ezio died centuries before Desmond was even born, yet he still felt as though he'd lost his two closest friends. They were more than just men scattered through time; they were a part of him.

"So what now?" He asked finally.

Erebus replied, "_I will send you away. Athena's faith was well placed." _

Desmond frowned, turning to face the godchild's unreadable expression, "So you're just going to leave? What, you're gonna get back in your little spaceship and go off for another thousand years? Why not stay and help us?"

"_You do not need my help. My tests have concluded that you three have already triumphed over every obstacle you will encounter." _

"That doesn't make any sense," Desmond shook his head, rising to his feet and taking a step towards the god, "Please, just answer one question, give me a hint, anything!  
>"<em>Goodbye, Desmond. My brothers chose well." <em>


	7. Epilogue

Masyaf, 1257

The Apple flickered beneath his palm, innocent as always. Altair blinked and he was suddenly overcome with a bout of trembling. Words he did not understand zipped across his brain: Ezio, Desmond, Erebus…a labyrinth of twisted metal.

No, Altair reminded himself, pushing away the scattered images of a young boy and a cavern. He was nowhere but the library. As the memories of his adventure faded, like a puff of breath on an icy window, the old Mentor's fingers curled around the disk in his hand. There was only one thing left to do to ensure his message was preserved.

His footsteps were the only sound as Altair staggered towards his seat. Finally, his cold fingers met with the chair's back and he settled into it, gazing distantly at the vault's sealed entrance. When Altair rested his arms on the ledges carved for them, he wondered how many years would pass before the door rolled upwards again.

In his final moments before slumber overtook him, the Mentor thought of the names in his mind. Perhaps, he thought, they are the beings that my life was made to better. Perhaps, he thought, they will make my suffering worth it in the end.

And with that, Altair slept.


End file.
